


Introduction

by mulders_modem



Category: Fringe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 12:13:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5456162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mulders_modem/pseuds/mulders_modem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Olivia Dunham first encounters Charlie Francis. A little riff on history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Simply a drabble. Enjoy.

"You are not interrogators. You cuff the targets and bring them to your ASAC for positive I.D,“ Charlie Francis detailed. He was an agent who’d risen from the Brooklyn P. D. and was rumored to have buried a partner there. His shadow lengthened in the van back, eclipsing the faces of a dozen subordinates. They rocked out of time with one another as the vehicle lurched through traffic.

Olivia Dunham hugged her trembling knees in the loose circle of her arms. Her breakfast churned beneath her standard-issue vest. 

Her duties on the DEA task force had previously included (and ended with) fetching wiretap sanctions. Agent Francis was some years her senior. He had distinguished himself and unlike her, never had to recite his resume to be recalled by name.

“Olivia, right! You’re a former prosecutor, eh? USMC? I thought you’d be right at home with red tape.”

“With all due respect, sir.” Olivia told Special Agent Ian Bergstrom, her fingers knit in anxious custom. “Credentials that are underutilized are made obsolete.”

Her eyes shifted from her supervisor to a half-empty carton of donuts in the so-called ‘War Room’. A partial circle of cake crumbled inside. Take a bite outta crime, Olivia thought. She recalled her childhood and walking home from the bus stop in the rain. A sopping poster of MacGruff the crime dog hung against the glass. She attempted to run away and her stepfather had beaten her when she returned. Twin streaks of water painted the apartment floor. Bleeding, she’d slid backward in sock feet.

“It isn’t a ride-along,” chided Bergstrom, dispelling the reverie. He gripped her arm in hammy reassurance. She imagined breaking his fingers. Slowly.

“I should hope not, sir.”

“These men are members of differing local gangs. Together they’ve found a little interstate, ah, enterprise. This, ladies and gentlemen, plants their case in the federal jurisdiction.” Francis turned a clip of ammunition. in his roughened palm. His empty gun was toy-like in the other.

“Our buddies down at ATF plans to raid their weapons cache,” he told them. “Expect that it is stocked and that they aren’t afraid to use it.” Francis’ chest lifted as he inhaled. His gelled hair was shoe-black and combed back with vain precision. His chiseled jaw worked, readying further pronouncement. 

“Death doesn’t distinguish a hero from an idiot.” He clapped the ammunition into his weapon, startling them deliberately. “For my buck and your Uncle Sam’s,“ he said. "Be neither.”

The agents emerged beneath a slate sky. Deserted undercover vehicles bordered the carport. The yard was muddy underfoot. A drain pipe banged against the home’s vinyl siding, punctuating their trajectory. Silhouettes filed two by two past the cellar door. Olivia found herself shoulder to shoulder with Charlie Francis. Her brow was clammy and his cologne filled her nose.

“If you want to leave, the door is open,” he told her as they breached the grimy stairway. “Dunham,” he named her. “You’re gonna be fine.”

Olivia huffed a sobering breath.

"Thanks, Francis.”


End file.
